The Bugatti
by Kinsey Adelaide
Summary: Bruce has a new car and the boys want to drive it. Fluff and nonsense. Rated T because Jason swears a bit.
1. Chapter 1

**I was inspired by other people's stories about the Bat-Family. I hope I didn't step on anyone's toes or make the characters too ridiculous.**

**Disclaimers: don't own.**

**I don't know anything about Bugatti's, except that they are expensive and have a cool name. My apologizes if the fictional car sullies their good name.**

* * *

><p>The Bugatti<p>

"You ask him."

"No, you ask him."

"No, you ask him."

"No, you ask him."

"Well, he's _your_ father," Jason sarcastically reminded Damian.

Damian scowled and said nothing. He couldn't very well argue with that.

"Fine. You win this round, Todd. I will ask him."

"You better. Here's in the study by the way." With that, Jason casually flopped down on his bed and pretended to be engrossed in a magazine.

* * *

><p>Damian stomped all the way to the study. Once Bruce had granted him permission, he strode purposefully into the room and stood directly in front of the huge desk.<p>

"Father, I would like the keys to the new Bugatti."

Bruce looked up from his Wayne Enterprises' paperwork and raised an eyebrow. "You're not legally old enough to drive, Damian."

"That may be, Father, but I am capable of driving and mundane laws should not stand in my way."

"No."

"But I demand that you disregard these pedestrian American laws and let me prove my superb driving capabilities."

"Absolutely not. Especially if you're going to demand it."

Damian and Bruce locked eyes, both attempting to visually intimidate the other. In a matter of seconds, Damian surrendered.

"As you wish, Father." And he was gone.

Bruce sighed, shook his head, and resumed his work. Did Damian honestly think he'd let a child drive his new Bugatti? To give the kid credit, though, at least he didn't whine about it.

* * *

><p>"I was, regrettably but predictably, unsuccessful," Damian announced to Jason.<p>

Jason tossed the magazine aside (it had mostly been for show anyway). "You can't do anything right. I'll go."

Damian crossed his arms. "He'll never give the keys to you, Todd."

"We'll just see about that," Jason sneered, although deep down inside, he knew Damian was right.

Bruce was not at all surprised to hear another knock on the study door. He was a bit surprised that Jason had sought _permission_ to enter.

Jason got right to the point. "So, Bruce, whaddya say you let me take the new Bugatti out for a spin?"

"No."

"Come on, Bruce, I'm old enough to drive – unlike your twerpy offspring!" Bruce mentally filed away that Damian was hanging around Jason. That relationship would require future surveillance.

"No."

"God damn it, Bruce! Why the hell not? It's not like it's your only car."

"Because it's a new vehicle and must be treated with respect." Jason made a disgusted face, as though he were gagging on Bruce's lame words. "Also – because I said so."

"Well I say I should be allowed to drive it."

"Well, then, you're going to be disappointed."

"You know, I'm an adult here. 'Because I said so' doesn't really cut it anymore."

Bruce fixed on Jason with a Bat glare. "The answer is no," he ground out in a low, menacing tone.

Jason threw up his hands in defeat. To signal his displeasure, he let out a lengthy stream of profanities on his way out the door.

* * *

><p>"Drake, we require your assistance."<p>

Tim looked up from his video game in surprise. Had Damian just asked for his help?

"Who's 'we' and what do you need?"

"We is us," Jason stepped into view and indicated Damian and himself, "and we need you to sweet talk Bruce into giving us the keys to his new Bugatti."

"You're kidding, right? You know how possessive he is when it comes to his new cars."

"I'm sure you have something up your sleeve, nerdy one. Tell him you've been practicing driving Bugatti's on your fancy new Z-Box console or something," Jason suggested.

"It's an X-Box and that would be lying."

"Ahh, but the ends would justify the means." Jason paused to note the death glares Damian and Tim were sending at each other. "Besides, Damian already failed. It's the perfect chance to show him up."

Tim didn't even need to pause to consider. "Where's Bruce?" he demanded.

* * *

><p>"Bruce, I thought you might like to know that my training is going really well."<p>

"That's nice, Tim." Bruce didn't even bother to look up from his balance sheets. Just how many times were the boys going to interrupt him today?

Deciding not to take it personally that he had been so rudely ignored, Tim tried again. "Yeah, I'm using this vehicle simulator, and I'm doing awesome. But I could really use some real-world application."

That got Bruce's attention. He looked Tim directly in the face. "Is that so?"

Tim gulped. It was so much harder to embellish the truth when Bruce was staring straight at you. "Yes, it's so."

"Take one of the bikes out if you like. Dick always found them to be helpful for training." Or for messing around (it was funny how often the two ended up being the same activity).

Tim's heart began to beat faster. Did he actually have a chance of success? "I was hoping to use a car."

"Okay, sure. Try one of the Mustangs. Good muscle and speed."

Getting warmer. "I was hoping for something, umm… foreign."

Bruce's eyebrow arched ever so slightly. Tim started to panic a little inside – Bruce was getting suspicious. "Perhaps one of the lower-end Ferraris would suit your purposes?"

"Oh, I don't want to do anything dangerous. Just see how it handles."

"You could take a better Ferrari then." There was a pregnant pause. "Or did you have something else in mind?"

Tim knew that Bruce knew what his mission really was, but he felt he couldn't chicken out now. "Umm, could I use the new Bugatti?"

Bruce smirked. He had known that was what Tim was after the moment he mentioned the non-existent vehicle simulator. "I think… not."

"Please?" Tim asked meekly, feeling a little embarrassed for even having the gall to ask.

"No."

"Not even for just a little bit?"

Bruce frowned darkly.

"Okay, I get it. The answer is 'no!'" And Tim turned tail and dashed back to his bedroom, where Damian and Jason awaited.

"No luck?" Jason half-asked, half-stated as soon as he saw Tim.

"No luck." Tim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Now that he thought about it, he really wanted to check out that car. If only Bruce weren't so protective of his new playboy toys!

"Well we can't just give up," Damian stated.

"Of course we won't give up!" Tim snapped, irritated that Damian might think he was a quitter.

"We just need to bring out the big guns," Jason admitted matter-of-factly.

"Big guns?" Damian queried.

Tim grinned at Jason and nodded his head. "We need Dick."

* * *

><p>Dick, meanwhile, was sprawled out on the living room couch reading. Although he could hear his brothers lurking outside the living-room door, he decided to ignore them until they officially made themselves known to him. He didn't have long to wait.<p>

"Grayson! What are you reading?" Damian demanded as the three tromped into the room. When Dick didn't immediately answer, Tim leaned down to look.

"_Murder on the Orient Express_? Haven't you read all of Agatha Christie's books already?"

"Yes, but I like them" Dick replied, without looking up from the novel.

"He probably has a thing for Miss Marple," Jason interjected. "You know how he is about older women."

"This is a Hercule Poirot novel," Dick replied, unruffled.

"You probably have a thing for short Belgian dudes, too. Hard to tell with you."

Dick just smiled into his book and didn't respond.

"Look, Dick we need your help," Tim said.

"Just a sec. Let me finish this chapter."

After deliberately taking longer than necessary to finish said chapter, Dick placed a bookmark inside, closed the book, tossed it onto the coffee table, and stretched. "Okay, what's up?"

"We need you to get the keys to Bruce's new Bugatti."

Dick laughed and looked at his brothers. "Don't tell me you guys can't sneak the keys off the rack."

"The keys aren't on the rack, idiot," Jason snapped.

"Yeah, Bruce has them in his pocket," Tim explained. "You have to ask him for the keys."

Dick raised his eyebrows. "Oh."

"Yeah, and all of us already tried. And struck out," Jason added.

Dick looked over at Damian who had remained silent. "Even you, little D?" He quickly reached over and ruffled his youngest brother's hair before Damian could move out of his grasp.

Damian swatted his hands away. "Yes, even me. And, Grayson, never touch me again."

Dick stood up and stretched again. "Alright, I'll give it a shot. Where is the old man?"

"In the study," Tim replied.

"To the study then!" Dick darted out the door and up the stairs with his three brothers following.

* * *

><p>Dick knocked on the study door, and then sauntered in after Bruce had given him permission to enter. The other three boys crowded around the keyhole.<p>

"_Watch and learn, kid," Jason told Damian._

"_I don't need to learn from Grayson. I'm my father's real son!"_

_Jason and Tim shared a look. "Just observe the master, Damian," Tim suggested._

"Hey, Bruce, how's it going?" Dick asked, moving ever closer to the desk.

"Fine," Bruce answered without even looking up from his paperwork.

"Need any help?" Dick had circled around the desk and was standing behind Bruce.

"Thanks but no thanks."

"Okay, but I think you dropped something under the desk. Move back and I'll get it for you."

"Alright," Bruce murmured, pushing his ornate chair back from the desk without a second thought.

Once Bruce's chair had sufficiently moved back from the desk, Dick, despite being twenty-something, planted himself on Bruce's lap. Bruce looked up from his paperwork, moderately surprised.

"There wasn't anything under the desk, was there?"

Dick just grinned and shook his head. "Nope, not a thing."

_From behind the door, Damian scoffed at his older brother's tactic. "How is this going to help? He's practically prostituting himself for paternal affection."_

"_I don't think sitting on Bruce's lap is exactly prostitution," Tim defended, half under his breath._

"_Live and learn, kid," Jason pronounced. "Bruce eats this shit up. Only trouble is, it takes a certain kind of person to pull it off."_

"_And Grayson is this kind of person?" Damian sounded doubtful._

"_And then some." Jason smirked. "Golden Boy always gets his man."_

Back at the desk, Dick shifted into a more comfortable position on Bruce's lap. "So, Bruce, can I – "

"No."

"You didn't even hear what I was going to ask!"

"Your brothers already asked. And the answer is still no."

"_Well that was effective," Damian snorted derisively._

"_Give him time, Damian," Tim hissed, annoyed that Damian had so little faith in Dick. "You'll see."_

"But _I_ haven't asked yet," Dick replied, the barest hint of a pout on his face.

"No."

"Now, Bruce, that's just not fair. You know I'm responsible, and I'll be a good boy with your car."

"The answer is still no."

"_You expect me to learn from this!" Damian irritably demanded of Tim and Jason._

"_Yeah, we do," Jason growled. "So shut up."_

"_You'll see, Damian," Tim soothed. "He wasn't even trying up to this point."_

"Aww, come on, Bruce. Please?" Dick added a pleading tone to his voice.

"No."

Dick gave a disconsolate sigh and removed the papers from Bruce's hand, forcing his adopted father to look at him (rather than at his distracting paperwork).

"_He's going in for the kill now," Tim announced._

"_Yeah," Jason agreed, eager to contribute to this play-by-play narration. "Whenever he makes Bruce look at him, he means business."_

"Please, Bruce?" Dick gave Bruce his patented puppy-dog eyes.

Bruce sighed heavily and closed his own eyes. "No," he said, noticeably less firmly than before.

Dick patiently waited until Bruce opened his eyes. "Pretty please, Bruce?" He slightly up-ed the pathetic-ness of his expression.

"No," Bruce repeated, but his tone revealed that he was wavering.

Inwardly smiling at his assuredly-upcoming victory, Dick lifted one arm and placed it around Bruce's shoulders in a half hug. Fixing Bruce with his best puppy-dog eyes, he leaned in close and whispered, "Please, daddy?"

Bruce closed his eyes and inwardly sighed. He was proud of himself for having resisted this long; as soon as Dick had entered the study he knew he was going to be relinquishing the keys to his Bugatti. "Fine."

"Whoo-hoo," Dick rejoiced, throwing his arms around Bruce for a proper hug. "Thanks, Dad!"

"_And that's how it's done, folks," Jason commented dryly, while Damian gazed on in wonder._

Bruce reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys. He dangled them over Dick's outstretched palm. "You have one hour."

"One hour!" Dick burst out, shocked. "Dad we have four drivers; an hour is NOT going to be long enough."

"You do remember that Damian is underage, right?"

Dick gave Bruce a look. "And your point is?"

"Fine. But an hour and a half is all you get. I want the car back by 4:30 sharp."

Dick glanced behind Bruce at the grandfather clock. It was exactly 3 PM.

"But Bruce, by the time we get to the back roads on the edge of the property we won't have an hour and a half to drive."

Bruce sighed. "Be back by 4:45 and not a minute later. Understood?"

Dick nodded solemnly. "You have my word." Bruce placed the keys in Dick's hand; the younger man's fingers instantly curled around them, then he slipped them into his own pocket. "And thanks again." With that, Dick launched himself off of Bruce's lap and over the desk, turning a double somersault in the air before landing perfectly in the middle of the study.

"I mean it, Richard: 4:45 sharp." Bruce repeated, in the most serious tone he could muster (at that moment).

Dick rather cheekily rolled his eyes and gave Bruce a dazzling smile. "Yes sir."

With that he ran over to the door and, stepping out into the hallway, shouted, "Guys, I got the keys!" His brothers were about a yard away from him, but he wanted to make an attempt to keep Bruce from knowing the others had been eavesdropping.

On the way down the stairs, Damian marveled, "I can't believe that worked."

"Told you," Tim gloated, pleased to have proved Damian wrong.

"He's a master, kid," Jason responded. "Pulls off lap-sitting better than any twenty-something I've ever met."

As the younger boys moved downstairs, Dick stuck his head inside the study door one last time. "Bye!" he shouted gleefully, giving Bruce a quick wave before tearing off down the stairs.

Bruce just sighed. Maybe if he made Dick put a bag over his head he might be able to resist his pleading. But the voice, and the strangely sweet sensation of Dick calling him "Dad," would get him every time. Oh well. He managed to get a "daddy" out of Dick before his resolve had crumbled. That was a small victory but Bruce would take what he could get.


	2. Chapter 2

"So… uhhh… shotgun," Tim ventured as the four of them headed for the garage.

Despite Tim's innocuous tone, Jason exploded.

"You can't call shotgun inside the house!"

"Why not?"

"You have to be within sight of the car to call shotgun. Geez-us, it's like rule number one in the international code of calling shotgun!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Well I never heard of such a rule!"

"Then you're a gigantic loser with no friends because everybody knows that rule. It's universal."

"No, it's not!"

"Ye-ah, it is!"

"Dick! Is that a rule?" Tim asked, desperate for support.

Dick held up his hands in a whoa-gesture. "I have no idea, guys," he said quickly, stepping in front of his arguing brothers. The last thing the wanted to do was get involved in a shotgun dispute between Tim and Jason.

As Tim and Jason continued bickering about the rules of calling shotgun, they fell further and further behind Dick and Damian. When the two Ds reached the Bugatti, Tim and Jason were still yards away in the enormous garage.

Dick sighed as he climbed into the driver's seat. "I guess I'll use this time to adjust the mirrors." He then occupied himself by fiddling with the numerous fancy dials to adjust the mirrors, the seat, the steering wheel, etc.

Damian stood quietly outside the car for a few moments, hesitating. With a flippant shrug, he then wrenched open the passenger-side door and climbed in.

"I guess I'm riding shotgun now."

Dick looked up from his fiddling, grinning. "Way to go Little D! That'll teach 'em." He held up his hand for a high-five, which Damian (after a pause) reluctantly returned.

By the time the two stragglers made it to the Bugatti, Dick had adjusted the mirrors and such five times over and Damian was securely buckled into the passenger seat.

"Oh hell no!" Jason shouted. "No way is _he_ riding shotgun!"

"Try and stop me, Todd," Damian replied ominously.

Jason didn't take the hint, though. Just as he was about to reach into the car and attempt to forcibly remove Damian, Dick interrupted.

"Just get in the back, Jason; we've wasted enough time as it is. And let this be a lesson that you should walk quickly and bicker at the same time."

Cursing all three of his brothers under his breath, Jason climbed into the seat behind Dick (Tim having already taken the seat behind Damian, which offered more legroom).

Dick carefully maneuvered the Bugatti out of the garage. As the car and the boys emerged into daylight, Dick said, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful adventure."

* * *

><p>Dick drove for about fifteen minutes, then came to a stop on a pretty-much abandoned road in a secluded area. "Well that was fun. Who's next?"<p>

"Me! Birth order!" Jason demanded.

"Me – reverse birth order," Damian insisted.

Dick looked from one brother to the other, then decided to pass the buck. Why not let Tim decide? After all, Tim would be the next driver whether Jason or Damian went first.

"Tim," Dick gestured grandly at his brother, "I hereby let you decide. Who goes next: Jason or Damian?"

Tim grinned evilly. This was a perfect opportunity to stick it to Damian and it was not to be wasted. "Jason. Definitely Jason."

"I hate you," Damian snarled, glaring at Tim.

"The feeling's mutual," Tim shot back.

"Now, now," Dick gently reproved, "there's no room for hate in this car. We're all brother's here."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Aren't you little Miss Mary Sunshine. Now get out and let me drive."

"Okay." Dick got out of the driver's seat and took Jason's spot in the back.

As Jason was adjusting the mirrors and the seat (all the while mocking Dick for being a "shrimpy acrobat"), Tim suddenly remembered that he was still sitting in the backseat.

"Hey, it's my turn to ride shotgun!"

"Like hell it is, Drake," Damian hissed.

Dick made a sad face. "Don't you want to sit by me, Timbo?"

"I'd prefer sitting by you if you were in the driver's seat."

"Fair enough. Damian, switch with Tim."

"Go to hell, Grayson."

"Maybe another time. Little D, if you don't let Tim ride shotgun, you won't get a chance to drive the car." That should solve the problem.

"He gets to drive?" Jason and Tim indignantly shouted.

"Yeah, duh." Dick sighed and rolled his eyes. "I thought you guys were eavesdropping!"

"We were, but I thought that was just a ploy to wrangle more driving time out of Bruce," Tim explained.

"No, I meant it. Why do you think I brought us to the edge of the property? Damian can't legally drive on real roads, but he can on our property."

"Fine. Drake, you may have shotgun," Damian pronounced haughtily, as though he were doing Tim a huge favor.

As Damian and Tim switched seats, Jason ran his hand fondly over the dashboard.

"So, Dick, you're sure we're on private property?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Positive?"

"Yes."

"So no speed limits?" Jason caught Dick's eyes in the rearview mirror and smirked.

Dick grinned back. "Not to my knowledge."

"Excellent. Let's see what this baby really has under her hood."

Tim looked panicked. "Oh, God, I'm going to die."

"Don't be such a weakling, Drake. If you're going to ride shotgun, you have to be worthy of the privilege."

Jason laughed. "Nice one, kid." He awkwardly stuck his hand into the backseat, hoping to high-five Damian. Damian, however, looked disdainfully at his hand and refused to acknowledge the gesture.

"Never mind," Jason muttered, placing both hands on the wheel.

"Just don't kill us all, Jason, okay?" Dick requested, pretty calmly (all things considered).

* * *

><p>Twenty or so minutes later, the Bugatti screeched to a stop, the tires leaving impressive burn-marks on the road.<p>

"Whoo-hoo," Jason hollered, fist-pumping the air. "That was amazing!"

Everyone else in the car took a deep breath as the green slowly receded from their faces.

Dick shook his head, trying to clear away the haze of panic. "If I didn't have so much training, I think I would have been sick back here."

Tim and Damian gave slight nods of agreement, but Jason ignored them all.

"This car is a beaut! And has this baby ever got it going on under the hood. Damn!"

"That tends to be the case with a car that costs more than many people pay for their houses," Tim snapped.

"Well, aren't we in a snit. Can't handle –"

"Alright, you two. Tim's turn to drive," Dick interrupted from the back.

"Shotgun!" Jason shouted as he unbuckled.

As Tim settled himself into the driver's seat, Jason began examining the sound system. "Let's see what this baby can do."

"Oooh, put on 98.6," Dick suggested eagerly. "They play pretty good stuff."

Jason was aghast. "You listen to the radio? What are you, fifty?"

"No," Dick moped, crossing his arms and pouting.

"I," Jason pulled something out of his pocket, "am going to hook up my iPod."

"You can do that?" Dick asked impressed, his slightly-hurt feelings all forgotten.

"Dick, you can do that with a top-of-the-line Ford." Tim explained patiently. "So of course you can do it with a _Bugatti_."

"Will wonders never cease?" Dick commented, without sarcasm. He was genuinely impressed with the car's ability to operate an iPod, even though he still liked the joy of scanning through the radio stations.

As Tim began to drive, the Bugatti's speakers began to blare death-metal. "Is this the only crap you have on your iPod?" Tim asked.

"Just shut up and drive," Jason retorted. "The kickin' bass line really shows off the system's abilities."

As Tim and Dick resigned themselves to listening to the blaring music, Damian started contemplating how to destroy Jason's iPod.

* * *

><p>As Tim brought the car to a graceful stop, Damian called out, "My turn!"<p>

Tim turned to look at Dick who was still sitting behind him. "You're seriously going to let him drive?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Oh, I don't know. _Maybe because_ _he's underage!_"

Dick waved his hand dismissively. "Age ain't nothing but a number. He'll be fine."

"Can he even reach the pedals?" Jason snorted.

"Todd, I will have you know that I am of more than sufficient height to operate a motor vehicle."

"See?" Dick said, as though Damian's height were the only issue.

"Drake, you're in my way."

A few minutes later, Damian had made all the necessary adjustments and Dick was in the passenger seat.

"Okay, little D, _gently_ press on the gas. This isn't the Batmobile; we can't just fix the scratches down in the cave."

"You let him drive the Batmobile!" Tim shouted, irate.

"No!" Dick responded quickly, in a somewhat-panicked tone.

"You did." Jason accused. "Shit, man, I'm telling Bruce."

"Well, it was _my_ Batmobile," Dick pouted.

"I wouldn't tell my father anything, Todd," Damian warned ominously.

"Oh sure, now he gets protective," Jason huffed.

"Good to know the demon-spawn gives a crap about someone," Tim muttered.

Sensing that Tim was honing in on a possible weakness, Damian snapped, "Drake! If you –"

"Okay, then," Dick smoothly interrupted. "Now that we've established that what happens in the Bugatti stays in the Bugatti," he paused to look searchingly into the eyes of each of his three brothers, making sure that no one was going to breathe a word about the Batmobile, "I believe it's Damian's turn to drive."

"Fine," Jason and Tim grunted from the backseat.

"Damian, if you would then." Dick made a sweeping gesture towards the great beyond.

"Finally." And the youngest brother peeled out with a little more speed than he really should have.

* * *

><p>None of the other boys had been paying any attention to the time. Consequently, all three were rather surprised to see that it was 5:35 PM when they headed for home.<p>

"Uhh, Dick," Tim said, tapping the clock face from his place in the passenger seat (his reward for having achieved victory in an epic battle of rock-paper-scissors). "Is this clock wrong?"

Dick gave the clock a cursory glance. "No, why?"

"Because it's 5:35 and you told Bruce we'd be back by 4:45."

"So you were eavesdropping."

Jason leaned forward, craning his neck around Dick's seat to see the clock. "Oh man. Your ass is grass, Dick."

Dick just smiled. "We'll see about that, Jays."

* * *

><p>Dick turned off the engine at exactly 5:43, giving the boys just enough time to be back in the kitchen by the stroke of 5:45. Tim was clearly nervous about how Bruce was going to react to them being an hour late. Jason was also trepidatious but he tried not to let it show. Even Damian was mildly concerned, although he hid it well under a veneer of scorn. Only Dick seemed cheerful and unconcerned.<p>

A glowering Bruce met them in the kitchen. "You're late," he growled, while simultaneously sticking out his hand for the keys.

Jason started to say something about it being Dick's fault, but his older brother pushed past him and walked straight up to Bruce. He flashed his adoptive father a mega-watt grin and, with show-business-worthy flair, placed the precious Bugatti keys in Bruce's palm.

"Whatever do you mean, Bruce?" he asked, all wide-eyed innocence. "It's the very stroke of 4:45-" he paused for dramatic effect "-_central_ time."

Damian raised his eyebrows a millimeter in surprise. Tim and Jason looked at each other in open-mouthed shock. Was Dick seriously going to pull this off? Alfred, hiding a smile, was suddenly very busy preparing dinner.

When Bruce didn't respond, but just fixed Dick with an irritated glare, the oldest Bat-boy added, "You never specified that we had to be home by 4:45 eastern time."

"Given that Gotham City is on eastern time, I think we could assume I meant 4:45 _eastern_ time."

Dick just shrugged. "Well, Dad," (he did think it advisable to butter Bruce up the teensiest bit) "you know what they say about assuming. You make an –"

"I know what they say," Bruce interrupted snappishly. He frowned but then sighed in resignation. "Just don't do it again."

"Of course." Dick grinned at Bruce, then glanced around the room at his astounded brothers. "Thanks for letting us drive the new Bugatti, Dad." He then audaciously placed his arms around Bruce and gave him a hug. "She's a beauty."

And with that, he slipped out of the kitchen, gone like a shadow in the night.

A chorus of subdued "Thanks, Bruce" and "Thank you, Father" filled the kitchen, then the three younger brothers made short work to exit. Dick was waiting for them just outside the kitchen.

As all four sauntered off towards the television room, Tim commented, "I can't believe you got away with that, Dick. You're my hero."

"Yeah, how the hell did you pull that off, Golden Boy?"

"Years of experience, guys. You don't spend ten years as an only child with Bruce Wayne and not learn a few tricks. Or, if you want to keep yourself from being perpetually grounded, a few dozen."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Bruce was complaining to Alfred. "I can't believe I let him get away with that time-zone trick again, Alfred. He's been using that since he was – what? Eleven? Twelve?"<p>

"I believe since he was ten, Master Bruce." And Alfred would know. After all, he was the one who had first suggested the malleability of time when a certain little boy had awakened at an ungodly early hour one Christmas morning. And if Master Bruce ever asked, how was an old butler to foresee that as the boy became an adolescent he would use that trick to avoid reprimands for breaking curfew?

"That long?" Bruce gave a despairing sigh. "And that isn't even the oldest trick in his book."

Alfred smiled and placed a calming mug of hot tea in Bruce's hands. "Now, sir, this particular dynamic has been working for over fifteen years. There's no reason to change things now."

Bruce took a sip of tea. "I suppose you're right, Alfred. I just hope Dick doesn't teach Damian any of his tricks or I'll really have my hands full."

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that was fun (even more than I thought it would be). I hope it was fun for you, too, super-awesome reader! I don't usually write Jason, Tim, or Damian, but it was enjoyable using them. Anyway, thanks for reading!<strong>


End file.
